Circus
by kiarcheo
Summary: "Do you regret it?" Brittany looked at Rachel, who was staring at her, biting her lip. Brittberry AU set sometimes in the past.


**Disclaimer:** nothing is mine

**Note**: English is not my first language, thanks to my beta slackerD

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"Hi," Rachel looked up from her lap, her fingers never stopping their precise and quick movements, as she heard the trailer's door opening.

"Hi!" Brittany smiled at her and her work, knowing that the lining of Rachel's worn out skirt, that the brunette was removing, was going to become patches for her own trousers. Being a dancer, she sort of consumed a lot of them, especially with those moves on the floor she liked performing so much.

"I found a newspaper on one of the seats," the blonde said, sitting down at their small table. It was amusing to Brittany how the 'respectable' crowd considered theatres places of perditions and so dirty that they would bring newspapers to sit on and not touch the seats, but every performance had a full audience. Just like they considered theatre people the scum of the earth, but never missed the chance to go and watch the singers and dancers in dresses they'd never let their wives in, moving in ways that they considered indecent for a lady.

She remembered when she was still naïve, and thought that those prejudices wouldn't really count. She had wanted to find an apartment for her and Rachel; and the brunette, even if she had repeatedly told Brittany that her hopes were in vain, agreed to try. Rachel was right, as usual. Some didn't even open the door, some sent them away after finding out what their jobs were. One took the time to explain that the occupants and owners of the other apartments didn't want their kind—like they were some sort of animals—because it would degrade the entire condominium. After that Brittany had been happy to return to their trailer; it wasn't much, but it was theirs. Nobody judged them, their jobs or the fact that they lived together and weren't married. Plus, being small, there was less cleaning to do. She and Rachel were always able to keep a positive outlook on life.

"Anything interesting?" Rachel asked.

"Quinn's husband bought another building. Oh, and there's a photo of Santana too," Brittany caressed their imagines on the papers. They had all been friends, a long time ago. Brittany, Santana and Quinn were inseparable when they were kids, and grown even closer once they found that they had something really important in common: they liked girls, and had bigger dreams than the lives their parents had planned for them. Quinn loved drawing and wanted to be an artist, Santana wanted to study and become a lawyer, Brittany wanted to dance. Rachel was different, she had grown up in a theatre, and had never hid that she would continue working there as a singer. Quinn and Santana didn't like Rachel very much, mainly because she was so carefree, never hiding what she wanted to do, never caring about what others thought about her, being everything they wished, but lacked the courage to be. Brittany had fallen in love with the short brunette, with her joy, her never ending energy, her voice. To the blonde, Rachel was a reminder that if she wanted, she could do anything.

And she did.

When the time came, Quinn and Santana chose their status, their popularity, money and power: they put aside their dreams and married the men their families had chosen for them. Brittany instead followed her heart, and her dreams, and she joined a theatre company with Rachel.

"Do you regret it?"

Brittany looked at Rachel, who was staring at her, biting her lip. Sure, she could have been in a nice house, with servants, not having to work to afford food, not having to do anything other than being a trophy wife. She'd probably have children too, but she'd also have nannies to look after them. But would that had been better than living in a trailer, with the love of her life, earning a living by doing what she loved most in the world?

The blonde moved away from the table, opening her arms; Rachel put down her work and sat in her lap.

"What do you see?" Brittany asked, pointing towards their friends' photos.

"Two beautiful women."

Brittany nodded, their clothes, their jewels…they were two goddesses. "But look at their eyes…they are sad."


End file.
